Hi everyone! So I had a dream the other night and thought that this would make a great book (although we all know it’s going to be a short story)! I woke up about 4 in the morning the other night because I was thirsty and couldn’t go back to sleep right away because I was thinking of different ways that this could go, and y’all if this was to be an actual book, I’d buy (and I’m not just saying that because I’m writing it).
This story would probably be upper YA- NA just because of some of the stuff that could happen with one of the characters backstory.
When I dream, I know that it’s a dream, but I can’t control anything. I also know that have the have reoccurring dreams. I’m not sure the last time I’ve had a ‘new’ dream, but things change slightly each time I have the same dream. It’s not like I dream the same thing every day or once a week, but it’s like having a 1000+ movie collection and I watch a different movie each night and start over when I go through them. But that’s enough about my dreaming habits. Also the dream just laid out the backbone for this story and wasn’t as long or descriptive.
This story is different from the other one I started because this one has a lot more depth than I had extended for the other one. The first story I had started was going to be completely fluff with little drama, but this one is going to be darker and the characters are going to have a deeper past.
Preface (do people even have prefaces for short stories):
Like all great love stories, mine started in a grocery store. When I first met him, I didn’t know if our story would be filled with happiness or grief or if he was just supposed to be the person who helped me and never thought of me again. Despite his lively personality on screen, I didn’t know how deep his trouble ran and how much it would affect me. Even after everything that we went though, I wouldn’t change anything because this is our story.
I know what you’re thinking. Shouldn’t I be at home at 11:00 at night in bed sleeping or at least reading a book? Well one would think, but I had to run to the store to pick up a few things that just couldn’t wait because I can’t just make this stuff up.
That’s how I found myself crouching underneath one of the pullout shelves on a stock cart looking at the chips because if I was out, I might as well get a bag. After a few moments of deciding what brand to get (because college budget and everything even though my parents gave me money to buy the stuff), I’m about to get from under the shelf to get back to my buggy (or shopping cart, whatever you call the thing that you put stuff in as you shop).
Just as I’m starting to crouch walk enough to stand up, there must have been 30 people walking between my shopping cart and the stock causing me to stay underneath the shelf. After the 5th person walked by with indication of slowing down for me to dart out of the shelf, I starting muttering, “yea, that’s cool, don’t let me out from under here”.
I was hoping that someone’s southern hospitality would let me get to my shopping cart, so I could be on my merry way and get home so I could finish a few more chapters in my book, but nooo. Apparently, the unspoken rules to hospitality spots after the sun goes down.
Right as I’m about to speak up, somebody finally let’s me out. Just as I’m about to open my mouth to thank the person who let me get up from my spot on the floor, I see it’s him. The guy who’s been flooding my for you page on tiktok for the past couple of days. It’s Clark standing there smiling down at me which his wavy brown hair and black framed glasses. And y’all, no joke, as soon as he started to smile, I had one of those movie moments where everyone else faded to the background until it was just us. And we just stood there for what felt like hours grinning at each other.
That’s until someone (who would have probably walked right past me without letting me get to my buggy) *rudely* cleared their throat and broke the moment. So we take my buggy and move to the side of the aisle.
I would be star struck if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s almost 11:30 at night and I’ve spent the last 3 minutes squatting waiting to get out of my hiding spot and I just wanted to get the rest of my things so I could leave. And y’all want to know the first thing I say to him? I asked him how old he was. Why? Because most of the cute guys on the app are like 16.
He just starts laughing like full on having to wipe tears from his eyes laughing. While I’m standing there waiting for an answer and in between gasping for breath he sputters out 21, and I thank the good Lord that he wasn’t 15 and I’d have to thank him from saving me and walk away.
After a few more moments of Clark to regain his laughing, he asks me if I’m even allowed to drive after dark much less at 11:30 at night. I mean, I can’t blame him since most high school freshmen are taller than me and Asians aren’t known for looking their age. I let out a puff of air and tell him that I’m 20. He looks at me in disbelief like I just told him that there was a hell hound walking around the corner of the aisle.
Sure the top of my head is a couple of inches from reaching the bottom of his chin but he’s 6’4”. Ok fine, I’m far from being a couple inches since I’m on 5 feet tall, but I can dream.
After a few seconds of glaring at him, I tell him that was born in ‘99 and that I was about to turn 21 in a few months; I even showed him my ID. He looks like he wants to ask more questions about my age but drops the subject.
I thank him for being the break of the waves of people and starts to head off to get the last few items.
I’m walking away slightly disappointed that Clark didn’t ask for my Twitter or Instagram name so he could slide into my DMs later to talk and trying to calculate how much longer it’s going to be before I can go back to sleep.
I’m deep in thought about which type of chocolate chip cookies to buy since tonight has been so eventful, and I doubt that I’ll be able to sleep despite me feeling like I’m about to tip over when I feel someone tap me on the shoulder. I whirl around getting ready to tell whoever it is that they can probably see over my head when I realize that it’s Clark’s smirking down at me like he just saw the cutest puppy try to steel his sock.
***here’s my attempt of trying to write conversations instead of he said / she said stuff***
“I realized that I didn’t catch your name back there,” said Clark still with a hint of a smirk.
“That’s because you didn’t ask considering you were to busy trying not to pass out from all your laughing,” I retort.
Clark grabs his chest dramatically like I wounded him with my words.
“My name is Lauren.” I say. He looks at me like he’s wanting for me to finish what I was saying and figured that he might want my last name to find me on the internet, “Bodiford.”
“So, Lauren,” he drawls out. “Why in the world are you out this late in a grocery store when it looks like you were about to face plant into the refrigerator?”
I recount the events leading up to me having to go out while finally deciding which cookie dough to get, and he stands there listening like it’s common to see a young person out in her pajamas store when it’s almost midnight.
We end up talking as we walk towards the cash registers so I can check out. There’s a handful of self checkout stations open and only one where there’s a person working but there’s a couple of people there buying stuff looking like they just finished a shift a the ER, so I opt for self checkout since I didn’t have a lot.
I put the last of my bags in the cart and head towards the exit. In between the two sets of doors, I start to grab my bags so I don’t have to push the buggy back to a return when Clark asks, “do you need some help?”
I tell him no since there only a handful of bags and no of them are to heavy, yet I linger to see if he has anything else to say. When it becomes evident that this is the end of my ever so short relationship with Clark I bid him farewell and walk to my car.
I think that’s a good stopping place for now!
Happy reading until next,